Page 99 of Those Two Words

Gasps and stunned faces greet me as I barge through the door, and I know I look deranged on my hunt for Jo right now, but I don’t really care. Scanning the tables, I don’t see a head of golden hair, but suddenly something is sniffing at my shoe. Looking down, I see Curly, Graham’s dog, and follow the lead up to where my brother is standing.

“Hey, have you seen Jo?” I rush out, still winded from my run here.

My mom appears over his shoulder, a wary look on her face.

I do not like that look.

“You don’t—yeah, she was with Mom before she went to the back to find Quinn. She seemed pretty upset.” Graham’s a direct person, so when I catch the edge to his tone, worry churns in my stomach.

I slide past him and my mom and walk over to the counter. Quinn looks up from her spot behind the glass cabinet, and I don’t like the look she greets me with either.

“Hey, Quinn, is Jo here?” I ask, pointing to the small kitchen behind her. I don’t wait for a response, though, and maneuver my way past the cakes and breads. Her arm shoots out and grabs me by the bicep.

“She just left,” she says and drops her arm.

“Left to go where?”

“I don’t know, umm, but she said…”

“What did she say?” I ask, with a little too much bite.

“Watch it,” Graham says in warning from behind me. I turn to look at him and raise my hands in apology before turning back to Quinn. She doesn’t seem fazed by my outburst, but a subtle blush colors her cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Quinn. I just—I just need to find her. Do you know where she went?” I ask, more calmly this time.

“I do, but she said that if anyone came looking for her to not tell them. I don’t want to break her trust, but I promise she’s safe.”

“Fuck.” I don’t let the dread trying to bully its way out of me take root. She’s probably in her apartment, upstairs.I respect Quinn’s loyalty, but it won’t stop me from searching for Jo.

Only when I knock on her apartment door until my knuckles start to swell do I resort to calling Martin Willis and somehow convince him to let me into her apartment. But she’s not there.

She doesn’t answer her phone. Every call rings out until it goes to voicemail.

Graham and my mom assure me that she wouldn’t have gone far, presuming I’m thinking the worst and that she’s left town. But that’s not what I’m concerned about; that worry is a thing of the past.

It’s that I have no idea where she is, how she’s feeling, or what she needs.

And she doesn’t know I love her.

I’ve been staring at the chip in the countertop for way too long, I’m beginning to go cross-eyed.

My chin rests on my folded arms, as Lottie sits across from me, doodling away and humming a song. Her tuneless serenade helps distract me, but only a little, which confirms how deep in my head I am.

Jo must have turned off her phone, or the battery died, because it goes straight to voicemail now. That doesn’t deter me from leaving her a message each time I call. I think we’re up to twenty-five now.

Graham and I drove around town for an hour looking for her. Shirley’s, Dough, her dad’s, Piper Beach, Puffin Point Lighthouse; we looked everywhere and no Jo.

I would have driven around town all day, but duty called, and I knew seeing Lottie would ease some of the regret I’m stewing in after today’s meeting. My mom and Quinn assured me that she was relaxed when they saw her. I just need to see her. I need to apologize and explain my words were a knee-jerk reaction, and nothing to do with us.

I need to hold her, kiss her, love her.

Instead, I’m sitting in my mom’s kitchen, agonizing over my words.

Tracing the granite countertop with my finger, I think of all the ways I’ll apologize to her. Iced coffees. Grilled cheese. A new puzzle every week. I’ll even let her win at a game of pool.

I need her here.

“Daddy, why do you look sad?” Lottie asks, with a tilt to her head.

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